I'll Be Seeing You
by MorningGlory2
Summary: Takes place at the end of 2.13 between Tom and Rachel and then onward. Rachel returns to St. Louis two years after the shooting. Has anything changed between them? Or has everything changed?
1. Chapter 1

_Welp, I couldn't stay away long after that kind of finale. I'm sure there will be several different takes on this moment, and of course, I wanted to throw mine in there too. Thanks to cathycath for hearing me out in my plotting : ) Enjoy!_

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"Great dress, by the way," the words purposefully slipped out. Tom Chandler meant them. Rachel Scott had never looked more beautiful. She was indeed beautiful, every day, it never ceased to dawn on him. But now, in this moment, in that dress, there was no way he couldn't let her know how great she looked. Stunning didn't cover it.

He was out of practice, still fresh from the loss of his wife. He couldn't help but take the opportunity to tell her though. There was so much more he wanted to say, really. Her adorable laughter, her clear discomfort over her attire couldn't have been more endearing. He adored this woman. Those words, however, were yet to spoken, even in his own mind, completely outright.

Rachel was flattered by his words, she could feel her cheeks blushing. He looked completely magnificent in his dress blues, she'd noticed that the moment she'd seen him. He looked every ounce the Commander—Captain—that he indeed was. Especially in his cover. It was hard not to feel smitten in his presence these days, and after all they'd been through, after everything he'd just said, the look they shared in the park, she finally felt like he had forgiven her for her actions, that they had somehow moved past the rough waters they'd been circling in since the sub had made its appearance. This. _This_ was nice. Different. Welcome. It had been a long time since he'd charmed her, and now, she knew she was completely hooked.

"The judge's daughter loaned it to me. She insisted that I couldn't really go to an inaugural ball dressed in jeans," brushing a piece of her hair back, she stepped forward, the heels giving her a slight bounce and sway, something about the little bit of champagne, and this banter giving her a flirtatious confidence. She felt renewed, purposeful. And the smell of his aftershave or cologne was beckoning her just a wee bit closer.

"Mmm. You could have pulled it off," Tom never took his eyes off hers, couldn't. And he meant it. He'd seen her in jeans, for months. It was a sight he wouldn't soon forget.

Rachel took in his words, at a sudden loss of her own. The world had shifted between them, something had changed. He was focused on her, but not with the anger or the missioned expression she'd come so accustomed to. This was not Captain Chandler, this was _Tom_. A small smile found her lips, as she took a few more steps forward, sliding the envelope into his hand, brushing his fingertips. He looked slightly unsure as she had stepped closer, he wasn't ready, she could tell. It didn't change anything for her, but she respected his mourning, his place he was currently in. She'd always been ahead of him, in most cases. What was one more?

So many things to say, so many words left unsaid. This wasn't the time, or the moment. He wasn't there yet. And she was leaving.

"I'll see you when I see you," she whispered, her eyes again never left his. How could they, with his blues drawing her in. She couldn't bear to ruin the moment, not with a _goodbye_. She'd see him again, she was sure of it.

So many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to vocalize them. _No, don't go._ But she didnt have a choice, and neither did he. And what good would that do? He couldn't bear to ruin what was finally building between them, fresh from the blood and drama of their travels. A fresh start. For both of them. But as she walked away, with one last glowing smile, he can't help but speak one last time. "Be safe," because she needed to return, and she wouldn't have his protection for the first time since they'd started this journey, _together_. "When you get back, find me." He'll be ready then, he knows it. Things will be different. A new life. That needed to include her, one way or another. He needed her to return to him, safe and sound. Because the alternative, losing her and Darien, was too much to come to terms with.

Tom's words halted her. Wishing for her safety. She doesn't know when she'll return, _if_ she'll return. But if she does, he can bet he'll be the first person she looks for in St. Louis. One last smile and she finds herself turned, walking away from him before she change her mind, before she would find herself in his arms. She never got her _enthusiastic embrace_. A moment for another time she supposes. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, and part of that left her pleased. Though their moment together ended too soon, it was well-played between them. The kind of conversation she'd replay in her mind over and over on the lonely moments of her travel. She prided herself in her independence, but something about him and their partnership in building the cure together, in saving the world together, made her enjoy the companionship of someone who was focused and driven just as much as she was. They had that in common. She knew she would miss that.

Tom watched her go, not only out of pleasure, but out of loss. She was moving on, and no matter which way he cut that, it still stung a little. Much like the fresh scar from the recent surgery he'd let her perform, all the shrapnel removed from his body. No more souvenirs of their tribulations. At least internal ones, painful ones. Sliding the key into the door, he let himself in once she was out of sight, around the corner. He carried the envelope to the small desk, making a mental reminder to give it to the president first thing in the morning. Maybe he'd get up early, to see her off. One last goodbye. He would see about it, didn't want to ruin what they'd just had.

Flirting. He smirked to himself as he set down his cover, unbuttoned his jacket. He'd miss her, Tom knew. Life wouldn't be the same without her strong personality biting at his heels over every decision he made. From that first moment in the p-way what felt like millenniums ago, _Captain Chandler, you had no right to pull me from my work_. He rubbed his forehead, sitting down on the bed, undoing his tie, unbuttoning the first button on his shirt. At that moment, all she was for him was a thorn in his side, a tenant on his ship. He would have never guessed they would have grown this close, come this far, dominated this together. Tom wouldn't have changed a moment, not a chance. Other than maybe her choice over Neils. But he was going to let bygones be bygones this time. Rehashing the past wouldn't change a thing. Not now.

It wouldn't bring Darien back, and that was a cold, hard truth he had to live with every day of his life. Spinning his wedding ring around, he wondered if he could move on, if he should. He loved her, still loved her, so much. She was gone. It was a hole in his heart he didn't know if he could fill.

But Rachel, she was getting closer to the vest than he ever would have thought she could have. He would miss her, and that was a feeling he wasn't quite sure of yet.

He stood, finding the bottle of aged scotch he and Mike Slattery had shared hours earlier, toasting to their victory and their new start. He knew Mike would be setting off to find his family, and Tom would be in this new position alone for a while. _Chief of Naval Operations_. A smile tugged at his lips as he poured himself a small amount. Celebration. This all called for one. And they had quite the ball. He should have danced with her, he thought in retrospect. He'd eyed her all night. Taking a sip of the strong liquid, he can see her bright as day in his mind. She'd stay there until he saw her again. Who knew what life would be like then. Getting his father and kids out her would be a great change. He'd made it, albeit the close calls. He couldn't wait to wrap his arms around them once more.

The sound cut his thoughts and the silence like a serrated knife. The sound he had nightmares about, the sound he was all too familiar with. Tom set his glass down as he reached for his small pistol in the breast pocket of his jacket. He'd kept it in there just in case. And this proved to be the moment he was all too afraid of.

Tom pulled open his door, as his heart raced. Not a soul in the hallway, but he knew with how loud the noise was, it couldn't have come from too far. Carefully, with the stealth of the trained Navy Seal and Navy Commander he was, he slipped into the hallway, holding his weapon in front of him, looking at every door for a potential suspect, a potential wounded. He swore silently. Of course the other shoe would drop. Of course things were too good to be true. Peace. It was so far from their grasps, no matter how hard they tried.

The sight around the corner was something he was not prepared for, could never have prepared for. Her hair splayed out on the floor, her body immobile, awkwardly laying against the wall. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widened, his weapon and his own protection forgotten. "Rachel," it escaped in a whisper as he rushed toward her. Not her. Not now. Not after everything.

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 _I'm a little rusty, it's been a while, so please be kind. This is not a one-shot, I have every intention of continuing this. I hope to update every Sunday as I did before. But I make no promises, because we all know how life gets crazy. Bear with me, because this will be a chapter-story. I'm excited about my ideas and have to get them out! I hope you enjoy this, remember, reviews are love and so greatly appreciated!_

 _What a FANTASTIC season! Here's to season 3! (and the unfortunate ten months of waiting!)_


	2. Chapter 2

"Rachel!"

Tom crouched beside her, setting his pistol on the ground within reaching distance. His large hand settled over hers, providing more pressure, the pool of blood seeping out of the black lace dress, over her small torso, covering the beautiful hotel carpet and matting her long hair. This was not how the evening was supposed to end.

She offered him a small grin, despite her white pallor and her pain. Her hands clutched to her shoulder, the doctor in her doing her best to keep pressure on the gunshot wound. Tom's bigger hand gave her reprieve, but also caused more pain, as she took a staggered breath. She hadn't expected it, hadn't anticipated the gun, though she'd immediately been nervous when the man had started to approach her. But this…this was not something she'd expected. She wondered briefly if this was the pain Tom had felt with the shrapnel. She suddenly had a whole new understanding of pain.

He noticed her strong grip on his upper arm as he pressed into her shoulder, trying to encourage the bleeding to slow. He took that as an promising sign, though the paleness to her cheeks made him sick to his stomach. She'd been alone for less than five minutes. _Five minutes._ He should have walked her to her door, he should have ensured she made it there safely, despite her clear joy in her new-found independence. If she'd had one more day with guards this wouldn't have happened. He shook his head slightly, his lips in a grim line.

"I guess those guards weren't such a bad idea," she managed, her mouth quirking up in one of her sassy grins, as she gritted her teeth against the pain. She tried to pull herself up to sit, using his arm as leverage. The pain was unreal, searing through every fiber of her being but she knew they needed to move, in case the gunman returned.

"Easy, Rachel, slow down," He blew out a breath in what could have passed for a small laugh, trying to keep his tone steady despite how fast his heart was beating, "You're bleeding pretty heavily, lay still for a minute," he encouraged, as he attempted to push her back down, gently. "Might I add, you had guards for two reasons. One was so you'd listen, and the other was for your protection," he deadpanned in return. "I think everything through; don't you know this by now?"

A real laugh escaped her, followed by a gasp in pain. She let him push her back down, her dark eyes locking on his blues, finding solace there. She knew, despite their banter, her blood loss was grave. She felt light-headed. "You're meticulous in your details," she complimented, her breathing shallow, "I wouldn't expect anything less. You can say 'I told you so'," another small smile, giving it to him with everything she had.

His eyes widened slightly at her words. He shook his head. "I'll say it later, when you've been stitched up and you once again have 24/7 protection," he replied, giving her something to look forward to.

"I'll never be alone again," she groaned in faux distress over the thought, though really, it seemed quite appealing at this point.

"You won't. I'll make sure of it," he agreed, his eyes carrying a seriousness she hadn't seen that evening. She knew why, knew what he was thinking. She was thinking it too.

"I'll still fight it," as she was fighting right now, gripping his arm so tightly her knuckles were white. He knew she meant the guards, but right now, she was fighting for her life. He felt sick.

"I would count on that," he repeated her words from earlier, because they were fitting. And he meant it. He hoped she'd fight. It made it more interesting that way. This push and pull between them. They'd always had it. She had to hang in there so they would _still_ have it. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked gently, though it was pertinent information in saving her life, and the lives of everyone in the hotel.

She shivered under his hand, and he knew he needed to move her now, he'd waited as long as he could and he wasn't making much progress. The blood continued to come through his fingers, his hands and pants from where he kneeled now covered in her blood.

"A guy, white shirt, brown jacket, jeans I think. He was sweaty, dirty. He said he was sick, needed the cure. Asked how close he had to be to get it," she winced, every breath brought a new wave of pain, "He quoted Sic Semper Tyrannis at me, the bastard," Tom couldn't help but grin at her tenacity, though he could tell she was beginning to fade.

"We'll get him, you have my word," he assured her, running a hand over her hair. She nodded, her eyes closing.

"Milowsky and Rios are downstairs," she forced out, holding on to him for dear life. He nodded as he slipped his arms under her, holding her close to him, his pistol in the hand under her back. She let out a cry that she couldn't hold back as he lifted her, the pain cutting through her. He grimaced, pressed his cheek to her forehead, the clammy feeling disconcerting.

"Sorry," he mumbled, carrying her quickly down the hall, careful around every turn.

"Don't be," she replied, a hint of a smile on her face. She rested her head against his shoulder, her bloody hair staining his blues, the red covering his entire uniform. She took in what warmth she could from him, pressing once again against the wound. Her head felt lighter once more, and she felt nauseas.

He made quick work of the stairs, bellowing once he was close enough, praying she was hanging in there. She was tough, a fighter, through and through. He needed her to give this fight all her might, one last time. He'd never let anything happen to her again once they were out of this mess. "Rios! Milowsky!" He entered the room, and the laughing and singing party came to an abrupt halt as looks of joy turned to shock and horror as Tom carried the bleeding doctor into the room. "Burk, clean off that table," he commanded, carrying her closer, everyone standing to help however they could. Burk, helped by Bertrise and Tex moved the bottles and glasses, as Tom laid Rachel down on the wood coffee table. "She's been shot," he explained rapidly to Rios, who was already pressing a throw blanket to her wound. Her small whimpers and gasps didn't go unnoticed by Tom, but he needed to be clear, "Green, Burk, secure the President. Miller, Cruz, stand guard at the door. Wolf, Tex, I need the perimeter scouted. The man who did this couldn't have gotten far," he turned to Rios, kneeling across Rachel's body from him, watching him inspect the bullet's entrance. Rachel reached for his hand automatically, and gripped it with everything she had, her head rolling to the side as she bit back a cry of pain.

"The bullet didn't exit, I suspect it's logged either in her shoulder or against her scapula. She needs surgery," Rios' words were weary, as Milowsky appeared with their medical bags, sliding Tom over slightly, the Captain still holding her hand.

"We can do it here, but it's not sterile—" Milowsky began, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Rachel's thin arm.

"I don't have anything to knock her out with either," Rios explained, searching his bag quickly. "I have some local anesthetic but…" his words drifted off, as the Michener entered the room, Burk, Green, and two other guards following him quickly.

"There's a hospital not far from here, I've been informed it's in working order," He dispatched one of the guards to get one of the service vehicles. "What the hell happened?" The President asked incredulously, watching the doctors work quickly to stabilize Rachel, who was growing paler and weaker by the moment. Tom released her hand, standing, Mike making his way to his side.

Rachel reached for his hand again, lost at the disappearance.

"Someone shot her sir, we're not sure who. We've got men on the perimeter, working the halls. We'll find him if he's still here," he explained, sure of his words. "We need to take you some place safe," he began, his voice low, "until we find out who did this."

"Nonsense. I'm going to the hospital with you all," the guard reappeared, explaining the vehicle was outside. "There's no one else I feel safer with," he added. And while Tom wanted to agree, he also wanted to give Rachel his full attention. With Michener there, it would add to the weight of the situation. He nodded though, who was he to argue further?

"Yes, sir," he nodded, his attention moving back to Rachel as the doctor's moved quickly to prepare transport their fellow doctor, overhearing their words of how she'd need a blood transfusion, and how her pressure was dropping. He looked to Mike then, who nodded, stepping closer to the President, his vest on, armed already. Tom appreciated the gesture, stepping back toward Rachel to lift her to the car. He lifted her quickly, on Rios' count, a small whimper falling from her pink lips. "Easy," he coaxed as she struggled slightly. _Good. She still had some fight left_. "Stay with me," he whispered against her forehead. She grinned ever so softly.

" _Now_ you don't want me to go," she teased, her voice barely a whisper. His own face grew whiter at her words.

"I told you to be safe. You just don't listen," he bantered in return, quickly lying her on the back seat of the large utility vehicle. He pulled back to let Rios in, who was carrying the IV bag, but her hand found his, her eyes wide and nervous.

"Don't leave me," she asked, in a moment of vulnerability and fear. His heart nearly tore, the words so quiet and tearful. He swallowed hard, tightening his jaw to hide his own emotions. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her, taking the IV bag from Rios and sliding in beside her, still grasping her hand tightly. He had been torn between staying with his men and finding the bastard who did this, and going with her, but when she asked, he couldn't deny her. If this was the last moments he saw her alive…he pushed the thoughts out of his mind, turning his attention to her face as the car moved off toward the hospital.

Rachel held his hand as tightly as she could muster. The pain, the loss of blood was overtaking her, and she knew it was only a matter of moments before she was unconscious. Rios had bandaged her for now, to stall the bleeding and to get her into surgery, but she knew it was dire they get the bullet out. She blinked, fighting the nausea, the metallic taste in her mouth, and the sudden desire to sleep. "Tom, listen," she started, turning her head slowly to face him. His blue eyes stared at her intently, and she tried to memorize every feature of his face. "If I don't make it…," she started, before he shook his head, stopping her.

"Don't. You will," he reassured her, despite the panic and the tears building in this chest. He's already lost his wife, he couldn't lose Rachel too. He held her hand as tight as he could.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and finally, a tear slipped down the side of her cheek. She tore her eyes open one last time, the effects of the blood loss finally taking its toll. She locked her eyes with his, taking a shuddering breath, "I hope you're right," she whispered, before she finally let her eyes fall shut, succumbing to the darkness that beckoned her.

* * *

 _We'll meet an original, familiar character in the next chapter ; )_

 _Thank you for SO MANY reviews, favorites and follows! I haven't had a moment to reply individually yet, but I will! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last! I know they're both a bit short, but I wanted to get them out asap! The next one should be up soon._

 _I tried to differ this shooting from the one in Red Flag, as far as Rachel is concerned, I hope I did the moment justice. Please leave a note and let me know if you enjoyed it! Thank you again for the amazing reception of this story and the encouragement!_

 _And if you haven't already, don't forget to follow my twitter, MorningGlory2RF for update alerts, sneak peeks, and Tom/Rachel talk! : )_


	3. Chapter 3

The C-130 Hercules glided easily through the clouds, beginning its decent on St. Louis. A tired sigh filled the air around one of the bucket seats in the cargo hold, hands held tight to a dossier filled with data of her travels. Brushing a tendril of chocolate hair from her eyes, she reviewed the top document again, a request for her presence in the new capital to acknowledge her most recent work on the cure and the virus. It had been two years since she'd left. It felt like she'd been gone an eternity, and yet she could remember those last moments like they were just yesterday. Everything was still so vivid. She pushed the thoughts away, tightening her seatbelt for landing. Twenty more minutes. Another deep breathe.

The wheels deployed from the base of the large Navy plane, the sound making her jump slightly. A chuckle to her right made her look up, her eyes rolling at herself.

"Penny for your thoughts?" the laughing words pulled Rachel Scott out of her reverie entirely, a light twinkle in the eyes beside her. She shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips. She glanced up, her eyes holding their secrets.

"They're not worth that much, I'm afraid," she replied, catching his eyes. The blue eyes pierced hers, his hand clasped hers in comfort.

"They're worth gold to me. If you want to talk, I'm here," he reminded her. He always reminded her of that. And she appreciated it. But she wasn't much of a talker these days. She squeezed his hand, a thin smile on her face.

"I know, and I will talk if I need to," she replied, looking back down at the files. He nodded, his thumb rubbing over her soft skin. In some ways it reassured her. In others it made her stomach sink.

"You know it's going to be okay, right?" He offered, that grin setting parts of her at ease. "You've got around the clock detail, your car is armored and at no point will you be in a vulnerable position. Plus, you've got me. Day and night," the last was added with a smirk and she felt herself blush, despite her self-assured position.

"I'm not worried for my safety," she told him, trying to sound convincing. He gave her a dubious look.

"Rachel, don't think you can fool me. Why else would you be nervous to be back in St. Louis?" The pilot called back for him, and he released her hand with a final squeeze, "Everything will be fine," he assured her, before making his way to the front of the plane quickly before landing. She watched him go, taking a breath now that she was alone.

Two years was a long time. She had traveled immensely throughout her life, had never cared about leaving a place or returning to one necessarily. This was different though, St. Louis was different. The _Nathan James_ had been different. Who would have thought she could get used to living on a destroyer at sea? She had. And she missed it. The various places she'd stayed on her travels across the continent, through Canada and Mexico, down to South America, none compared to her home on the ship. _Home_. That wasn't a word she would have thought would find its way into her vocabulary, especially when talking about a ship.

It was there though, the emotional attachment. She missed it. Her eyes lifted to the ceiling of the plane. Ten more minutes and she'd be back in St. Louis. Two years. They were over. And though she'd never show it, she was terrified.

XXXX

The knock sounded on the strong oak door.

Rear Admiral Tom Chandler continued writing, working on a pile of logistics paperwork for a completed mission to the South Pacific by one of their nuclear submarines. As Chief of Naval Operations, he definitely had a fair amount of paperwork on his desk at any given time.

"Enter," he called out, not looking up. Petty Officer 1st Class Jennifer Coates stepped in, his personal assistant and secretary. The young woman had been assigned to the _USS_ _Enterprise_ prior to the outbreak. She'd come back to St. Louis to be with her family, and upon the setup of the new government, had taken a position in the new Naval headquarters.

"Admiral, the shipment of goods from Brazil is landing at Scott as we speak. They also picked up parts for the _USS_ _Seawolf_ in San Deigo. Did you want to receive those yourself?" Tom handled some things himself, very hands on. He figured that came from his days as Captain of the _Nathan James_. Those days seemed so long ago, he had been desk-ridden since the ship had been placed in dry dock two years ago. He didn't mind it—his family was now in St. Louis with him, both kids enrolled in the new school system, his father took a job as security at the local hospital. Kelly and Ava Tophet had come up with his family, the opportunity in the new capital giving everyone new life.

Tom looked up from the documents, contemplating his answer. He checked his watch. He had an hour before he'd leave to make sure he was home for dinner. The sonar parts were highly important to the repair of the _Seawolf_ , and he could use a break. He nodded. "I'll go. Do you have the documents?"

Coates nodded quickly, "Yes, sir. They're prepared for you to take with you."

Tom offered the young woman a wry smile. "You knew I'd go," he ventured to guess, standing and grabbing his coat and cover. She dropped her head with a shrug and a knowing smile.

"I figured you could use an escape," she stepped out of the office and grabbed the stack of papers.

"You know me well," he gave her a genuine grin, slipping his service dress blue jacket over the shoulders of his white uniform shirt. The fall was turning to winter and their uniform followed suit.

"That's my job, sir," she replied, handing him the documents and a coffee in a paper travel mug.

"Thank you, Petty Officer. I'll see you in the morning," he replied, heading out the double doors that lead to the offices of the officers who worked for him.

XXXX

Rachel waited for the all clear before unbuckling her seat belt, the plane safely on the ground. She brushed a strand of her hair out of her face and caught glimpse of the hand held out for her.

"Welcome to St. Louis," Commander Brad O'Brien told her with a smile, his aviator sunglasses already on, his high-powered rifle already over his shoulder, his desert camouflage that familiar color worn by the Seals. "Let's get you to the President, shall we?" he added, grasping her hand as she slid it into his, allowing him to pull her up from the bucket seat and to her feet. She nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Let's do this," she replied, releasing his hand and stepping toward the already descended ramp. The cold air rushed up into the belly of the plane, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her as she stepped off the ramp and onto the solid ground of the Midwest. The Air Force base was busy, a mix of each branch using this as a base. She knew they'd combined forces here in St. Louis, for now, as they worked to build a full Navy base on the river. Armed soldiers stood by the large plane, ensuring the safety of the cargo and herself, while Brad walked behind her, always keeping an eye out, two men in front of her. Ever since the shooting she'd accept full security. The President had insisted. Her safety was vital to the spreading of the cure, and the adaptation of the vaccine, as well as continuing research on the pandemic. She had agreed, albeit hesitantly, not wanting to relinquish her freedom once more. Someone had convinced her, however, that giving up her freedom was better than giving up her life, and reminded her of a few words she'd said after she'd been shot. She'd listened to him, since she owed him her life.

Tom parked his government issued car at the edge of the airfield, the cargo plane sticking out among the fighter jets. The large plane was already being unloaded, but from what he could tell he had arrived in time to inspect the large pieces of the submarine before receiving them and sending them on to where the submarine was dry-docked and awaiting her final parts.

He nodded to a few sailors who saluted him as he strode toward the plane, his mind wandering to home. He needed to remember to pick up a new drill on his way home, she wouldn't let him live it down if he forgot one more time. He needed to hang that picture over the mantle, the new one she'd purchased from an estate sale in the country. And she needed eggs and milk. Breakfast for three kids ensured they went through those two products at a quick pace.

His blues scanned the activity around the plane as he got closer, and any thoughts of eggs, milk, and paintings left his mind as he saw her. He knew that hair, that tan jacket, would know them anywhere. Tom's step faltered for only a moment, as the sailors helping unload saw him approaching. His jaw was slightly slack despite how he tried to act as though he wasn't shocked. It had been two years since he'd seen her, but that didn't mean he didn't think about her. He wasn't sure he'd ever see her again, and something about her being right in front of him left him relieved.

Rachel watched as Brad talked with a few of the Seals who would continue on with them during their stay in town as part of her security detail, as she orchestrated the unloading of her lab equipment and her samples. A large armored truck was packed with her things, set to be taken to a secure location downtown, near the new capital building and the Navy headquarters.

Several of the Navy sailors unloading her things stopped, standing at attention and offering a salute. She recognized the gesture from her time on board the _Nathan James_ , and turned in the direction the soldiers faced. Even at his rank of Commander, Brad stood at attention as a particular officer headed in their direction. She would have known the man anywhere, by his stride alone. She couldn't see his eyes, as they were shielded by his own aviator sunglasses, but she knew what lay behind the dark lenses. She could never forget those eyes, even after years of not seeing them. Her heart jumped, eyes widened. She barely reacted as he told the sailors to be at ease as he walked past them. He walked past her with a mere nod, as the world around her faded, focused on him. She would be lying if she said she was distraught at his cold greeting, but what more did she deserve, she thought to herself.

It took most of what Tom had to keep a straight face, to not stop and talk to her. He needed to sign for these parts and something about seeing her after all this time infuriated him deep inside.

Brad pulled her from her reverie as she stared at him, chewing him gum, his eyes following her gaze. "You know the Admiral?" he asked curiously.

"Admiral?" she spoke at first, confused, thinking he was referring to someone else. It then dawned on her that he'd been promoted since she'd left. "Oh, yes, I do. Well, I used to," she answered, turning back to her inventory list.

"You'll have to tell me that story later," he replied, before leaning close to her ear, "Over drinks after dinner," he added, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. The smallest of smiles tugged at her lips, and she forced a laugh and hoped he didn't notice the tone, or attributed it to her being distracted. Her eyes kept lifting to _Tom_ , watching him signing paperwork and talking with the pilot of the C-130. She wanted to ambush him, to make him talk to her, but she couldn't move. She could hear the SUV's tires on the pavement of the runway, and knew that it was here for her. They were due to dine with President Michener that evening and she needed a shower and to change. She wondered briefly if he'd be there, but then hoped he wasn't. She wasn't ready to face him, despite her desire to talk to him.

"Rachel!" Brad called a few moments later from the SUV, and she realized she had been staring and lost in her own thoughts. It was time for them to go and the last of her things had been loaded into the truck. She took one last look at him, noticed him glancing her way, before striding quickly to the white vehicle.

Tom turned as a man called her name, noticed the Seal uniform, the gun he held, and the way he used her first name and the tone of which it was carried. He suspected the Seal was a bodyguard, and was glad she had one. The sun bounced off her dark hair, and he noticed the length and the waves. Something tugged at him but he refused to let it go any deeper. She climbed in the car and the door was shut by a fellow soldier. He wondered why she was back, what brought her back here after this time. He made a point to do some digging in the morning, maybe call Michener and find out if there'd been any developments he should know about. The way she left…He needed to know why she was back, and if she was staying. Even if he did nothing about it, simply to prepare himself.

Once in the car, behind the darkness of the blackened window, she peered at him, her eyes roaming from his feet to his cover. A large wave of regret covered her, and she felt exactly the same as the day she had boarded a similar plane and headed for Lincoln, Nebraska. Brad's hand slid over hers and she gave him a weak smile, ripping her eyes away from Tom. What had she done?

" _ **They say that time's supposed to heal ya  
But I ain't done much healing [..]**_

 _ **Hello from the outside  
At least I can say that I've tried  
To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart  
But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore"- Adele "Hello" **_

* * *

_I won't begin to list what kept me from completing this chapter. I'm on maternity leave though, and have plenty of time to write now that we have a feeding schedule down, so here's to more frequent updates! I hope those of you who are still reading enjoy this chapter! I'm interested in hearing your thoughts—I took a completely different approach than I had original planned. I hope you like it!_

 _The Petty Officer is from JAG-she was one of my favorite characters so I thought I'd bring her in here. My first Navy (well, and Marine) ship, Harm & Mac. You know what they say about dress whites... ; ) _

_Brad is portrayed by Bradley Cooper. He was suggested by our friend Joys Of October. Definitely not hard on the eyes and gives our lovely Captain..er..Admiral a run for his money. This character is not the character from American Sniper, but he is a Seal and he is built the way Bradley was in the movie. I'll post a pic on my twitter, MorningGlory307RF._

 _Six months until the premiere : ) XOXO_


	4. Chapter 4

**Your reviews were amazing, and I am SO thankful! The reaction to this story has been fantastic and I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter! Sorry for the delay in updating—remember, I have a baby. Please be patient with me : )**

 **Enjoy!**

 **XXXXX**

Tom tried desperately to get his head back on straight as he drove home, later than he was supposed to. Rachel was back. After two years. He was sure he wouldn't see her again—and something about that worried him for her safety, while another part of him had felt relieved. He'd started a new life here, after everything that had happened between them, she'd left him no choice. With no way to contact her, or no reason to do so over radio, he didn't have much of a decision in the matter. As he always had, he'd coped, moved on as best he could. But seeing her today had ripped a wound back open that had only scabbed over. He thought it had healed but unfortunately he was wrong.

He took a moment to look up at the house before he entered. Was he going to tell her? She knew their history. He decided it would be better for now to hold that information to himself. Upsetting her wouldn't do him any good either.

Opening the big oak door, he put a smile on but was careful to be quiet. He immediately saw her on the couch in their living room as he stepped into the foyer, and he did feel slightly as ease by the sight.

"You're home late," she gave him a soft smile, pushing the throw blanket off her thighs and pushing herself up from the couch. Despite the fact he had missed dinner and didn't carry the drill he promised, her tone was cheerful. He did stop for groceries, knew better than to come home without those items.

"I'm sorry, Kel," he truly was, and he hoped his tone conveyed such. He'd been distracted, _she'd_ distracted him. It had been a long time since that had happened.

"Well, you'll just have to make it up to me then," Kelly Tophet walked up to him, stepping on her toes as her lips found his. For a moment he was pulled back into his old world, the one he'd been living in until Rachel had showed up today. "Work keep you late? I saved you a plate," she told him with a grin, leaving him to walk to the kitchen. He followed obediently, setting his briefcase and cover down on the counter. She pulled the plate out and put it in the microwave to heat it up for him, before she leaned on the counter across from him.

"I had a lot of paperwork and I had to receive a shipment for one of the submarines. I'm sorry," he unbuttoned his coat and the top buttons of his shirt. "How are the kids?" he glanced at the clock, knew they'd be in bed by now. He'd driven around for a while after seeing Rachel, trying to come to terms with all the feelings he'd pushed away. He contemplated using his clearance to find out where she was staying but decided not to, unsure of what he'd say to her if he saw her. He wondered if she wanted to see him, if she'd talk to him, tell him why.

"They're good. Ashley and Ava finished their science projects, and Sam got a one hundred on his math test. Your father stopped by to see you, we had tea before he went on his way," the microwave beeped and she pulled the plate out for him as he sat down at the breakfast bar. The roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and asparagus had a delicious aroma and he was surprised how hungry he was.

"Sam's been struggling in math, that extra help is working," Tom was proud of his son. This new world they lived in provided a safe environment for his kids to grow up. He knew Darien would be happy with that—that their kids were safe and growing up healthy and thriving.

"It is," Kelly agreed, her hands finding his tense shoulders as he ate. "Rough day?" she asked as she felt the tension in his muscles. He swallowed, was glad she couldn't see his face.

"You could say that," Tom told her quietly, eating his dinner as she rubbed his shoulders. He tried to focus on the now, and forget about Rachel. He's spent so much time trying to forget her, and all he'd managed to do was push her into a small box in the back of his mind. And now that he'd seen her, she was free once again in the forefront of his mind.

"Well, finish that meal and let's get you upstairs, relieve some of that stress," her lips were close to his ear, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on her whispery British voice. He put his fork down. He needed a distraction, and though he felt some semblance of guilt deep inside, he was with this woman now. He turned around on his stool, capturing her between his long legs.

"I don't think I need to finish dinner, I think I'm ready for dessert," He captured her up in his arms, carrying her upstairs to the master bedroom.

XXXX

"You were quiet at dinner," Brad started as he and Rachel strolled the waterfront. The stars shined off the water and though it was chilly, it was just the air she needed before she buckled down to work the next morning. She needed the cold distraction from one of the main topics over dinner—Admiral Chandler and the rebuilding of the United States Navy. Rachel had wanted to drink the entire bottle of vintage red wine she was sharing with Brad to separate herself from the conversation that recounted how she and Tom had created the cure on the _Nathan James_. She'd been forced to talk, but had left out the part about being held hostage on a Russian ship, a certain kiss, an _enthusiastic_ embrace. Those moments didn't matter to the President or Brad, but they were special to her.

She shrugged as they walked, her eyes on the pavement in front of them, "I suppose I'm just tired from traveling," she told him, hoping he would take it as a hint.

"You know, I've worked with FBI, CIA, obviously the Seals. You are one of the most tight-lipped people I've ever met. Getting to know you is like trying to keep ice from melting in the desert. We have great sex, but every time I try to have a serious conversation with you that might hold some sort of emotion, you shut down. I had no idea about you, Admiral Chandler and the _Nathan James_ , or any of your history prior to the pandemic, besides your education. Rachel, it's like spending time with a ghost," his words were serious, his tone carried the hurt he felt and she heard it loud and clear. That didn't change how she felt though.

"I don't really like to talk about myself, you know this," she told him, not bothering to make eye contact as they walked. Brad raised an eyebrow.

"At some point, I'd like to get to know _you_ , who _you_ are, not who I see you are," Brad replied, his tone kind and patient. Rachel wondered when he was going to get tired of her private shenanigans and give up. She sighed.

She hadn't intended for their relationship to start the way it had, hadn't intended for one to start at all. And relationship wasn't a very definitive word for what they had—they had some semblance of a co-habitation as they traveled. What started as a one night stand as he'd charmed her over tea in Montana as they sat around a camp fire had turned into a normal thing, as they had begun secretly bunking together. She was a civilian, he was Navy, and though his officers would prefer he didn't fraternize with her, that hadn't stopped him. She knew he was in much deeper than she was. She was still tied to something else—someone else.

It wasn't fair to him, but she hadn't foreseen traveling back here, seeing Tom again. That changed the game entirely. Brad was invested, she carried guilt now. And though she wasn't nearly as invested as he was, they didn't discuss that. He was 'waiting' for her. What he didn't know was that waiting for her wasn't the answer—he was no Tom Chandler. And though the loss of him was her cross to bear, that didn't mean she didn't miss him, that she didn't still care. Being back in St. Louis was bringing back so many memories for her, so many feelings that she had tossed aside, hidden from the world, from herself. But having been so close to him today, it had thrown her world into a tailspin. And she knew pulling herself up and out would be almost impossible.

As they ended up back at the hotel, the beautiful historic hotel she had last scene the night she'd been shot, she couldn't help but force back a few tears. She regretted her decision every day on a personal level. Incapable of handling emotion, she had chosen the wrong way to handle the situation. The _immature_ way. A coward, she often called herself. She wondered if he called her that in his mind, after everything.

As he shut the door behind them as they entered their room, she slipped her coat off, grabbing her toiletries.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said softly, heading for the bathroom.

Brad furrowed his brow, watching her. "You okay?" he asked softly. He knew she'd been shot just one floor up and down the hall. Despite that not being her issue, she used it to her advantage. And she felt terrible for it.

"Just a lot of memories," she replied, stepping over the threshold.

"Maybe I should join you," he offered, stepping toward her. She stepped away further into the bathroom, looking down at the towel in her hand.

"No, I need this time. You should go to bed," she encouraged before shutting the door. She was being cold, she knew it, but she didn't know how else to act, since that was how she felt. Setting her things down on the counter, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She wondered what he'd thought, upon seeing her. Had it shook him as it shook her? She wished she knew. She wished things were different, wished she had made different decisions. Did he wish that? She was utterly confused.

Seven more days and they'd be back on the road again, and this would all be behind her once more. If she could just get through the time here, she could press on and put him once more in the back of her mind. She hoped.

XXXX

The next morning dawned with a light snow fall that left Rachel feeling nostalgic as she walked down the block for a cup of tea at a local coffee shop they used to frequent. It was early, she'd left Brad in bed, sneaking out before he woke. She'd pay for it later, when she returned, but she'd have a donut and coffee for an apology.

The shop smelled of fresh pastries and brewed coffee, and she had a flash back to a snowy morning just as this, coming here early for breakfast. That was right before she left. It was a ritual, they used to meet there before their days started. A faint smile played on her lips as she looked at the menu behind the register. Nothing had changed.

She ordered her tea and a scone, deciding to sit and enjoy her breakfast before she headed back to the hotel. She read the local paper's cover as she waited for her order, thanking the barista and taking her mug and plate. She turned to find a seat, and almost dropped her plate. Those blue eyes were staring back her, the ones that haunted her dreams. He was in their regular booth in the corner. She stopped, surprised and unsure. She met his eyes over the newspaper, and almost shivered from the coldness she found in them.

It resembled a stand down before one of them spoke, and she was more shocked it was him.

"You cut your hair," Tom remarked of her tresses that now sat just below her shoulder blades, his tone indiscernible.

"Yes, I did," she replied, taking a step closer. She was torn at what to do, whether to sit or go, now that he was here. He seemed to make the decision for them, folding the paper and standing. He picked up his travel cup of coffee, placed his cover under his arm. She panicked inside. She couldn't let him leave, not now. He began past her, not another look in her direction. "Tom," she started, her voice shaky and unsure, with maybe a hint of exasperation.

"Save it," he replied, striding past her. "Thanks Shelley," he called to the barista before stepping outside into the cold, the door bell chiming as he left. She watched him, and wasn't sure if the chill that was left behind was from the air outside or his demeanor.

 _I'll be seeing you_  
 _In all the old familiar places_  
 _That this heart of mine embraces_  
 _All day and through_

 _In that small cafe_  
 _The park across the way_  
 _The children's carousel_  
 _The chestnut trees, the wishing well_

XXXXX

 **DON'T WORRY! I'm going somewhere here, okay? Trust in the process!**

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated! I know I'm going to get massive hate mail for the beginning of this chapter, but trust me. I have everything under control. Why do you guys think they're together? Now THAT is speculation I am curious about!**


	5. Chapter 5

_I apologize for the delay—it seems I don't have all the time I thought I did (lol). Thank you for your continued support, however. It means everything._

XXXX

Petty Officer Coates stuck her head in Admiral Chandler's office, after her knock went unanswered twice. He was distant today, seemed distracted, and she hadn't seen him this way quite some time. She cleared her throat, hoping to pull him from his reverie. "Sir?"

Tom's eyes focused on the window in front of him, hearing the voice behind him. He turned the large leather chair in the direction of the big oak desk, his blues settling on the Petty Officer. "I apologize, Petty Officer. What can I do for you?" he asked, trying to look busy with the files on his desk. She pretended to ignore his distant moment, offering a small smile.

"Captain Slattery is on the phone, sir," she informed him before slipping out. A friendly smile tugged at Tom's lips as he pick up his phone.

"Mike," he greeted his longtime friend. They hadn't talked in a while, as Mike was captain of a destroyer in the Pacific. He'd been at sea six months, assisting Pacific ports and now headed for Hawaii.

"Communications are getting better, a nice change," Mike laughed. It had been trying to get the communications back throughout their country and be able to contact someone via land line phone.

"We're making vast improvements stateside," Tom leaned back in his chair, "How's your sea tour going?"

"Very well. We've just left San Diego, we've hit every working port along the Pacific Coast," Mike took a breath, proceeding tentatively, "I saw Dr. Scott quite a few times," he ventured to tell Tom, wanting him to know. He had been in town still when she'd left, picking up with wreckage she'd left behind.

"She's back," Tom spit out, absentmindedly playing with a pen on his desk.

Mike's eyes grew wide, "Really? Why?"

"I don't know, I haven't really taken the time to ask," he replied honestly. He was interested to know, however talking to her pulled open a large wound he thought had healed.

"Is she back for…you know," Mike couldn't bring himself to ask if she'd returned to grovel for forgiveness. Tom scoffed.

"No, I doubt she's back to rekindle anything. Rumor has it she's dating the Seal she rolled into town with, her security detail," he'd overheard Lt. Green talking to her husband at the coffee shop that morning. Now that she worked in the office with the president and his Chief of Staff, she'd attended dinner last night along with Rachel and her new man. That hadn't helped when he saw her at the coffee shop this morning, her hair cropped, her tan jacket and boots taking him back in time.

"Since when do you play around with rumors?" Mike scolded his friend.

"I overhead, I wasn't gossiping," he looked at the clock and realized their entire conversation had been about Rachel. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Did you call to talk about Dr. Scott professionally or were you just interested in the gossip around town?" Tom asked with a clip. Mike laughed over the line.

"I actually called to tell you it's Christine's birthday. Would you mind to pick up some flowers for me, leave them on the door step?" Mike requested of his longtime friend. Tom grinned. Mike and his wife had mended things well since he tracked her down upon their settling in St. Louis.

"Already done," he assured his friend. He knew him well enough to know what he would want, "Two dozen red and white roses left before sunrise with a card signed with your name," Tom told him, happy with his actions. He could hear the sigh of relief on Mike's end.

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it," his tone was full of gratitude.

"It's no problem at all," They'd been looking out for each other for years. "I've got to go, but you should talk to Rachel. Consider it my professional opinion," Mike added, and Tom could hear the grin on his face.

"What, are you my psychiatrist now?" Tom replied sarcastically.

"Someone has to be. Might be good for you to get some closure. I know the lack of that has been holding you back," Mike knew Tom well. Tom rolled his eyes, but he knew his friend was right.

"Don't you have a ship to run?" Tom asked, choosing not to comment on Mike's observations.

"Thanks again, Tom," Mike replied with a laugh as the two said their goodbyes and hung up. He stared at the phone a moment, wondering how he got here. He was happy, but was it because he had settled? Kelly had been a reasonable choice—she had a relationship with the children and his father from their time together in Norfolk, the children were close. She was a pretty woman. Their getting together had been a slight accident. It had developed after she'd come to St. Louis. She'd lived a few streets over in the beginning. It had been a few months after Rachel had left.

" _Thank you again, Tom, for coming by. It'll be nice to not have to worry about that leak," Kelly followed him to the front door as he packed up his tools. He flashed her a grin._

" _It's no trouble, luckily I have some plumbing skills," he laughed a little, "Call me if you have any more trouble," he added, his blue eyes catching her darker ones. She stepped closer._

" _I certainly will," she replied, reaching up to kiss his cheek. Her lips lingered against his jaw instead before she slid right just a millimeter to catch his lips. Tom was surprised by the kiss, but found himself kissing her back._

He shook his head, wondering if he'd kissed her back out of surprise, taken her upstairs out of loneliness. That wasn't his style, but Rachel had done a number on him when she'd left. Kelly was _safe_. She wasn't going anywhere, was already a mother figure to his children. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't find something in their arrangement out of convenience. He sighed. Mike was right. Maybe he did need closure. He glanced at his watch. He was heading to the President's residence for dinner, he suspected she'd be there. Maybe this was his opportunity.

XXXX

Rachel had once again been redressed, this time by Kara, who had insisted she couldn't wear her jeans to a formal cocktail hour. Kara loaned her a black jumper, the belt that cinched her across her waist slimming out her frame. She was uncomfortable to say the least, but accepted that she needed to dress appropriately, much as she had the night she'd been shot years ago. It had been nice to catch up with Kara though, meeting her daughter Dylan, getting an inside into life here in St. Louis. She and Danny had been married before the birth of their daughter, which Rachel had been able to assist in. Little Dylan was almost three, full of stories and very animated, just like her father.

Kara had naturally asked about Brad and Rachel hadn't known what to say. She spied the man across the room at the small bar in the parlor of the President's residence, watching him chat with Allison Shaw, the President's Chief of Staff, a very pretty blonde. He was very charming, attractive, and had been by her side almost her entire time traveling. Rachel had been blasé about it however, because that was how she felt. He was a good stand-in, someone to keep her company and spend cold nights with. He wasn't the real thing for her. She didn't say it to Kara in so many words for fear it would be interpreted incorrectly, but deep down she knew this wasn't long term for her. It was only a matter of time before his skills were put to use on another mission and they'd go their separate ways. Rachel knew it would be difficult for him, and thought she cared about him, it wouldn't be as hard for her.

She made small talk with one of the advisors, glass of red wine in hand when she heard the main door open, heard laughter. Her chest tightened, as she knew that laugh. She hadn't been aware he'd be attending, though she wasn't overly surprised, as he was Chief of Naval Operations now. He and Michener were very good friends, Kara had informed her. They played golf together, Tom often attended functions along with the President. That didn't surprise Rachel either. With Mike at sea, she was sure Michener was a good friend for Tom.

She saw him step through the door way, his cover under his arm, his service dress blues standing out, reminding her of that night. He looked every bit the admiral he was, tall and commandeering. As he greeted people he knew, she spied the admiral insignia, her heart swelling with pride for him. A slash of guilt immediately followed, only to be followed by shock as a familiar blonde woman stepped in beside him. Rachel sucked in a breath. Was it possible? As Kelly Tophet's arm slipped through Tom's, she knew then that it was. She felt sick as her eyes dropped to her wine.

"Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?" Brad's smooth voice filled her ear, floating over the lovely sounds of the quartet playing in the background. A hand subconsciously slipped over her straightened hair, Kara having insisted.

"I believe you have, a few times," she told him, finding a smile somewhere inside to give him. He sipped his dark drink, nodding appreciatively.

"Well, I'll continue to say it because it's true," his own service dress blues were attractive, but somehow they didn't match Tom's in her eyes. Truth be told there was something about being with a man in uniform, but she just wished she was with a different man.

Jealousy ran hot through her blood. But someone else was with that man.

Tom's eyes roamed the room immediately upon entering and she wasn't hard to spot. He still couldn't get past the shorter hair, surprised at how attractive it was on her. She looked beautiful, he thought, trying not to look too long. He felt Kelly's arm entwine in his and he remembered he wasn't alone.

He was pissed at himself for getting caught up in her beauty. The last time he'd done that he'd paid for it in pain.

They avoided each other for a while, each chatting with different people across the room, keeping a distance, despite how their eyes traveled to the other every once in a while, hoping the other didn't see. Rachel was perplexed by his relationship with Kelly, while Tom was still trying to figure out why she was with the Seal and who he was. It was inevitable that they'd find each other at some point, and Rachel tried to hold it together when she felt him beside her at the small bar, the hired bartender pouring her another glass of vintage red wine.

"I'll have a scotch, please," he asked the bartender, standing a foot away from her. She glanced up at him sideways as she waited for her glass. Once she had the liquid in hand, she took a sip, truly glancing up at him this time. Before she could speak, he took the opportunity to speak first.

"What brings you back to St. Louis?" he inquired, his voice gruff, not looking at her as he took his scotch from the bartender.

"The President requested me," she replied, surprised at how her voice wavered. He could easily put her on edge, though she remembered a day when it was quite the contrary, and they could go head-to-head, both stubborn and unable to back down. Those days seemed to be gone as she felt like she quivered in his presence. She knew that was her own doing. As she was about to speak again, Brad approached them, looking between the two.

"Commander Brad O'Brien, Admiral," Brad extended his hand to the other officer, "It's a pleasure and a privilege, sir," he added as Tom's expression remained stoic. "I heard you two were on your ship when the virus broke out," Brad attempted to make conversation, watching as Tom's eyes now remained on Rachel.

"That is correct," Tom replied, "Dr. Scott lied her way onto my ship and I spent four months taxiing her around the Arctic before I found out what she was really doing there, after a firefight with the Russians," Tom explained, his tone snarky. Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"It was imperative I keep it a secret from you and your crew, it would have risked the entire mission," she explained, a flicker of fire in her eyes.

"You were always good at secrets," Tom snarled back, sipping his drink, a chastising grin on his handsome face. Rachel pursed her lips as Brad continued to look between the two.

"Sounds to me like you two have been through some rough seas," he attempted to ease the tension, though the eye contact between the two never faltered. Kelly appeared from behind Tom just then, only adding to the growing tension.

"Rachel! When did you get back?" Kelly's greeting wasn't overly warm, which made Brad raise an eyebrow as he attempted to determine the dynamic between the three.

"Yesterday actually. We're only in town for the week before we fly out again," she explained, drinking a good bit of her wine. "How have you been, Kelly?" Rachel attempted to ask genuinely, though she was distraught over the way Kelly's hand danced up and down Tom's forearm. Her black dress was fitted and flattering, her blonde hair tied up in a chignon.

"Wonderful," she glanced up at Tom, who gave her a smile. Rachel wanted to vomit, but bit her tongue. This was such a mess. "Ava is great, she and Ashley are really getting on, while Sam is excelling in school," Kelly explained, a large proud smile on her face.

"That's just fabulous," Rachel replied, forcing a smile. Tom cleared his throat, unable to watch the women together any longer.

"Dr. Scott, may I speak with you in the other room?" his tone didn't give anything away, and she simply nodded, not trusting her voice. He led the way past the group to an adjacent sitting room, his own frustrations apparent on his face as Rachel followed, preparing herself for a cold interrogation, or worse. Kelly watched them go, her face showing her own disdain.

"They have history," Kelly didn't elaborate as Brad watched the pair walk away, but by the tone of her voice, Brad was beginning to realize there was more to the pair than Rachel had let on.

Tom shut the glass door behind Rachel, who turned to face him slowly. His expression was one mixed of hurt and anger, but something else lay under his blue eyes that she couldn't quite read.

"I can't _believe_ you're here," he spoke softly, though the heat in his voice was evident. "After two years you just _show up_ like nothing happened," he couldn't help it as the words fell from his lips. He needed answers.

XXXX

 _Oh the ANGST! I'm hurting my own heart as I write this._

 _Reviews are so appreciated. In the next chapter you should get some of the answers I know you are probably looking for! I'll have it up as soon as possible!_

 _Don't forget to follow me on twitter, MorningGlory2RF! : )_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry about that cliff hanger...maybe ; ) Thank you for the incredible reviews!  
_

XXXX

Tom shut the glass door behind Rachel, who turned to face him slowly. His expression was one mixed of hurt and anger, but something else lay under his blue eyes that she couldn't quite read.

"I can't _believe_ you're here," he spoke softly, though the heat in his voice was evident. "After two years you just _show up_ like nothing happened," he couldn't help it as the words fell from his lips. He needed answers.

"I didn't just 'show up like nothing happened', I came back here for work," Rachel replied, cocking her hip a little, her mouth in a tight line. She knew they were bound to discuss what happened, but she wasn't sure this was the way she wanted it to go down.

"For work," he mocked her, "Like you have an office job or something and you were traveling on business." Tom paced for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He couldn't breathe out there, and in here it was worse. He didn't realize how much he had in fact missed her.

"So you and Kelly, huh?" Rachel couldn't help it, she had to comment. She couldn't believe that either of them would be interested in the other. She couldn't understand how Tom would be attracted to her.

"Rachel, don't. You don't get to talk about my relationship," he stopped, tuned away from her. She stared at his broad back, so many thoughts running through her head.

"There were so many times I wanted to pick up a phone or a radio, and tell you how sorry I was— _am_ ," she tried to get out, to explain. She saw his shoulders sag.

"Why didn't you?" his voice was quiet, and she was beginning to see how much she had in fact hurt him.

"I didn't know what to say," she replied honestly. There didn't seem to be words to explain how sorry she was for what she'd done, how to explain what had pushed her to leave the way she had.

"Anything would have been better than silence," Tom turned back toward her and drank her in. She looked beautiful, just as beautiful as he remembered her being the last time he'd seen her. He could remember the evening so vividly, had thought about it so many times. If he'd been able to find her he would have called himself, perhaps. It was hard to say; he had been so hurt.

Rachel took a tentative step forward, her eyes carrying the remorse she had felt for months—years. "How are you?" she asked, her tone quiet and heartfelt.

Tom's eyes flickered to hers before he looked away again. He couldn't afford to get lost in her darker ones. Not tonight. "Rachel," he started, the name coming out more as a sigh. "Tell me why you left—why you left the way you did," he demanded quietly, finally locking eyes with her, steeling himself. She looked taken aback, and he watched her recoil, just as he would have expected. He bit back an aggravated laugh and waited for her response.

Rachel took a breath, stepping away from him and for a moment he didn't think she was going to speak. Her delicate fingers danced over an old fashioned globe off to his left, and he had to fight moving forward toward her. She was evading, he knew it.

Rachel found the words while staring at the shape of Egypt on the map. "It seems silly now, in retrospect. That night, after you had fallen asleep, I watched you for a while, our conversations spinning around in my head. I'm embarrassed to say I don't think I thought it through. Which is unlike me—"

"Except when it comes to relationships," Tom interrupted, his heart clenching with every word she said. "If you are trying to make amends, you may want to work on your wording because you're not making any friends here," his voice was low, his arms folded across this broad chest, awaiting the punchline of her story, hoping he would get it.

"Tom, I've never been a relationship person, you knew that about me. The fact I ran shouldn't surprise you," Rachel lifted her eyes, her own shoulders dropping. "And I wish I hadn't done it, please know that. I regret every moment we were apart."

"Why didn't you come back then? Do you know what waking up without you, with nothing but a note, felt like? I sped to that airfield, _praying_ I would catch you, that I wouldn't lose _another_ woman I loved," the pain she had caused him was displayed across his face for her to see. He didn't hide it, didn't even attempt to.

His words struck a chord; she hadn't thought about the sense of loss he would experience. In her selfish moment of running away, she hadn't thought about the desperation, the _devastation_ he might experience. Later on, months later, that had crossed her mind, and made her actions so much harder to bear. But in the moment, inconsiderately she had only thought about the potential for her own pain.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, fighting the tears that tried to fill her eyes. His jaw hardened, the motion sending chills down her spine.

"Your apology means nothing if you can't tell me _why_ ," he told her, his tone even despite the darkness in his eyes.

"You were going to have my orders changed, you wanted me to stay. We talked about me moving in with you and your _family_ , I just couldn't—"her words drifted off as he paced for moment.

"If I recall, _you_ were very much a part of that conversation. I can be bull-headed but you were right beside me, _naked in_ _ **my**_ _bed_ , sharing those thoughts with me. I am **not** to blame here," his words were spat with venom, from a man who had been deeply wounded.

"If you want me to talk, you need to stop interrupting me!" Hands on her hips, she stood up a little straighter. "This is not easy for me," she added angrily. Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh, and this is easy for me? To see you after all this time, showing up with some SEAL you're clearly just using to keep you company at night?" The volume of his voice rose slightly and she was taken aback by his words.

"That is not fair, do not bring Brad into this!" she scolded, her own voice raising.

"We both know it's true," Tom replied matter of fact, his blue eyes locked on hers. "If I could have gone with you, would that have made things different?" he was desperate to make sense of all this, all the sleepless nights he'd endured wondering _why_.

"I don't know," she replied, desperately losing her ground in this confrontation.

"Did you mean anything you said that night? Because I'm beginning to think you didn't mean any of it," he replied, hurt and agitated. At the accusation, she stepped forward again, her expression one of remorse.

"I meant every word I said, Tom," she attempted to reassure him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. His cold eyes and his crossed arms didn't thaw upon her touch.

"I am so confused, Rachel," he replied, tired of this—of loving her and missing her. He had the sudden need to embrace her, to kiss her, to make all of this go away with one swift motion. He wouldn't—he couldn't—but he wanted to.

"Hurting you was never my intention," Rachel squeezed his arm, searching for some break in his frosty exterior. "I made a terrible mess, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her brown eyes searching his face.

"Sorry doesn't fix it," his tone was equally as soft for a moment, closing his eyes to her touch. God, he had missed her. It was becoming harder to remember how much she'd hurt him and to forget how much he wanted to embrace her. That was all shattered however, with his next sentence, "I just can't believe you left without goodbye. Without even talking to me about it. I thought we'd decided we were a team. After you were shot, after everything we'd been through…"

Rachel hated that he used the past tense, as though it was all over, with no chance of recovery. "I left you a note," she defended. He laughed incredulously, shaking his head, stepping back.

"A note? Rachel, don't kid yourself. That was not a goodbye," Tom told her, saddened that she couldn't even see it.

"If I had woken you, we would have argued and I just—"

"Argued? You wanted to avoid an argument?" Tom's eyes widened with annoyance, "I think you wanted to avoid the possibility I would try to convince you to stay because you didn't want to," his tone was ice as the door opened and Kara stuck her head through the small opening.

"Admiral," Kara could feel the tension, regretted having been the one chosen to break up the confrontation everyone knew was going on in that room, "The President is asking for you," she informed Tom.

"Thank you, Lt. Commander," Tom replied without turning around. He heard the door shut and his eyes landed back on Rachel.

"That's not true," Rachel picked up seamlessly where he left off, his words stinging her.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, will we?" He didn't wait for her reply before turning sharply, not paying her another look before heading back into the crowded room. Rachel stood, watching him go, feeling helpless.

A defeated breath escaped her before she sucked it back in, stepping back into the crowd herself. Thankfully it appeared that no one had missed her, except for Brad, who stood expectantly off to the side of the group, alone, watching her. She made her way through the crowd to him, trying to ignore the sudden bout of guilt plaguing her.

"I suppose the real reason you didn't want to come back here has something to do with the Admiral and what just happened?" Brad asked, his tone steady.

"It's nothing," Rachel blatantly lied, looking everywhere but Brad's eyes. She couldn't find Tom amongst the guests, and wondered if she did if she would be able to finally right all of this.

"Now, I find that very hard to believe," Brad watched her watch the room, and felt for the first time that he was seeing the real Rachel. "I suspect there's a larger story there," he added, watching her reaction.

"I need some air," was all she told him before stepping past him, taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter and heading out onto the empty veranda. She sucked in a ragged breath as she leaned against the pillar outside the large residence, closing her eyes as she tried to slow her heart. This was a disaster—she had created this disaster. If only she had been less of a coward, had woken him and told him of her fears, of her passions, of what she wanted out of life, asked him if he had meant everything he had said. She swallowed the tears that threatened, staring off into the darkness as the memories flooded back through her mind, and for once she didn't stop them.

 **Flashback-two years earlier**

 _The house was quiet as Rachel stared at his peaceful face from where she lay beside him. So much had happened, so many things had evolved between them, finally. A smile flickered across her features as she thought about what they'd shared, how it had felt to be in his arms. Sure, they had kissed a few times since she'd been shot, a few stolen moments they had always avoided talking about, but tonight…tonight was different._

 _What had started as an innocent evening between friends had evolved effortlessly into a night between lovers, both of them having held their emotions back for too long. She'd honestly been surprised it hadn't happened sooner; it had been a couple months since the gunshot wound, and he'd taken predominant care of her after the fact, always there to help her with anything she needed. The feelings had been there for months, probably before he'd lost his wife, though neither of them admitted it went back that far. But since then, their feelings had grown. And now as she lay beside him, naked under his covers, watching his bare chest rise and fall with each breath he took, she tried to process everything._

 _And she felt a great deal of unease._

 _There was this bizarre sense of impossible reality to their conversation. He wanted her to stay, was planning to talk to the President in the morning. They would send some of the doctors she had trained in her stead. The children would arrive in a few short days and they'd slowly introduce her into their lives further. She'd move in with them. They'd have a family. The thoughts were thrilling…and terrifying._

 _She'd never had a family, not since the one she'd lost. And she had never planned on having one of her own. And now, here it was, all laid out for her with the first man she could easily love—a man she_ _ **did**_ _love. She had loved him for a long time, she couldn't really differentiate when it had started._

 _Could she be with him forever? Could she slip into his family, be a maternal figure to his children? Have children of her own? She'd been on the move since she'd been at school. She didn't know how to stand still._

 _What if she failed? What if she let love blind her ability to help the cause? She needed to go on and help the people west as she was assigned to do. But she wanted to stay here, right here in this moment._

 _The divide was tearing her heart out._

 _She'd never been good at relationships- wasn't sure she'd ever had a real one. She was sure she'd hurt him. Or what if he was simply grieving, trying to replace Darien? She couldn't fall for him if he was only going to realize the mistake he'd made in the morning. The mistakes_ _ **they**_ _had made._

 _The insecurities ravaged her. And in the darkness, they all felt so real, so true._

 _Panic coursed through her. She couldn't allow them to make these mistakes, to make something out of nothing. Because that's what this was right? Wishful thinking? Could he really love her the way he said he did? Did she really love him the way she said she did? The way she thought she did?_

 _She slipped from the sheets suddenly, quietly, barely making a noise as she dressed. She didn't take the time to pull her hair back, to tie her boots. She stared at him, memorizing his features in this moment, the peace with which he slept. She saw his work notepad off to the side of the bed, grabbed it along with a pen. She couldn't bear to wake him. He'd convince her to stay and she wasn't sure that was what either of them needed. She couldn't hurt him, and she couldn't allow him to hurt her. Neither of them deserved that. She wasn't any good for him._

 _"Tom-_

 _I'm sorry. We both know  
this is for the best._

 _I'll be seeing you._

 _Always, Rachel"_


End file.
